How can I then return in happy plight, |
That am debarr'd the benefit of rest? |
When day's oppression is not eased by night, |
But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd? |
And each, though enemies to either's reign, |
Do in consent shake hands to torture me; |
The one by toil, the other to complain |
How far I toil, still farther off from thee. |
I tell the day, to please them thou art bright |
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: |
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night, |
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even. |
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer |
And night doth nightly make grief's strength seem stronger. |
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